Love is Illogical
by Robyn Hood
Summary: In the 21st Century, a Vulcan is sent to Earth to more closely observe its inhabitants. All is normal, for Earth, until Captain T'Prein meets a strange young man named Clark Kent. He is unlike any other Earthling and seems to show affection for T'Prein.
1. Chapter 1

*Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or Smallville. I do, however, own T'Prein. The Vulcan culture and language contained are from the official Starfleet Vulcan handbook online. Hope you enjoy it! R&R, please!*

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T'Prein stepped into the small shuttlecraft. Methodically, she began checking status, data, and all controls.

"All systems are fully equipped. Ready to depart." She reported into the tiny comm unit in her ear.

"Understood, _Ang'jmizn_. Launch at will. _Dif-tor heh smusma_." Crackled the voice over the comm.

"Live long and prosper," she repeated, in her newly acquired English. She switched on the thrusters and prepared herself for take-off. Within minutes, she was rising through the thin air at an enormous velocity. She did not take her eyes off of the controls as she rocketed through the Vulcan atmosphere; she couldn't risk the slightest mistake. It would mean her life.

Red sand and rock, along with similarly colored adobe buildings, seemed to shrink as she plunged towards space. She adjusted the gravity control to a more comfortable level, so as to keep herself from being pushed into the cushioned seat. However, she still felt the abrupt jerk signaling her that the craft had broken free of the planet's atmosphere.

_Farewell, T'Khasi, my _kelek panu. She thought silently, the thought of leaving her home-world unpleasant, though no emotion betrayed itself on her face.

"I have left the atmosphere. Now commencing the navigational activation sequence. Proceeding to destination." T'Prein said coolly.

"Very well. Best of endeavors on your mission, _Ang'jmizn _T'Prein." Came the voice over the comm.

"My gratitude," she replied. Her fingers flying deftly over the touch-panel in front of her, she engaged warp speed, then activated automated controls. She looked one last time at the reddish-brown planet and watched it grow smaller until warp kicked in and the only thing on the view screen in front of her was a blur of stars. Now she was utterly alone. Not a single other soul shared the small space. Her comm unit could provide communication with others on Vulcan, but it took time for messages to travel to and fro the now-distant planet. She switched off the comm and removed it from her pointed ear. Carefully, she placed it in its proper container, then rolled out an exquisitely decorated rug and sat down, cross-legged on the floor. She steepled her fingers into strange V-shapes, with her thumbs out, and her hands together. She closed her eyes and began breathing deeply. The quiet of space was perfect for her meditation.

_Hot, desert wind blew across T'Prein's face as she looked out over Mt. Seleyah. Her pet _Sehlat_ from childhood sat obediently at her side. She looked at the picnic spread before her as she waited for Selik. She reached out for one of the juicy fruits--_

A slight beeping noise interrupted her _kohl-tor_. She opened her eyes and gracefully rose to her feet in one fluid motion. Briskly, but gracefully, she strode to the control panel. An unknown meteor was on a collision course with her small craft. She adjusted her course, inwardly frowning that such a small move would add 1.43 days to her 16.4-day journey in this cramped vessel. A small price to pay, however, considering that Earth was 16.4 light-years away from Vulcan. T'Prein glanced at the chronmeter and saw that it was time for the evening meal. She scanned the space surrounding the small shuttle, then went to prepare her meal of _sash_ and _savas_.


	2. Chapter 2

Clark Kent threw the last bale of hay into the truck, his chores finished. Now, there was nothing left to do but his English paper. He had been putting off this assignment for as long as possible, but now, he had to do it or his strict professor would give him a big, fat zero.

Since he'd started college, his classes, homework, job, and chores took up most of his life. Since his father had become ill, he'd decided to stay home and help out with the farm, but all of his father's work, Clark's work, and school was taking its toll. He couldn't remember the last time he went to a movie with friends. How did normal people survive this? He desperately wanted something exciting to happen, just not the kind of exciting that used to happen in his high-school days. He was glad all of that was over. It had nearly cost him his friends, but it did cost him his relationship with Lana. He wanted so badly to make it up to her, but she had forever shut that door and made it clear that they were _just_ friends.

Sighing, he started into the small farmhouse. He was just about to go inside when movement caught his attention. Something had stirred in the window of the vacant house next door, where Lana used to live. He looked over and saw a shadow bustling about from behind the curtains. A new neighbor? Surely, there would be nothing in the empty house that a thief would bother with, that and a thief wouldn't put up new, russet-colored curtains.

"Mom," Clark called as he opened the door.

"Hi, Sweetie. How was school today?" Martha asked, the ever-dutiful mother. She was stationed at the stove preparing dinner for her husband and son.

"Fine. Do we have new neighbors?" Clark asked, grabbing a glass of freshly-squeezed lemonade.

"Actually, we do. I didn't see them, but earlier today, the 'for sale' sign was taken down. I haven't seen any moving trucks, though." Martha answered. She bent down and took a tray of chocolate-chip cookies out of the oven.

"Mmm," Clark reached for one of the scorching-hot cookies, but Martha slapped his hand.

"These aren't for you. They're for the new neighbors." Martha scolded.

"Of course. You feed a perfect stranger before your own family." Clark teased.

"Dad and I are going over there before dinner. Are you coming?"

Clark grimaced, not wanting to go. "I have a paper to write."

"It won't take long," Martha promised.

"I don't know," Clark resisted.

"Clark Jonathan Kent, where are your manners?" Martha scolded her son.

"All right, I'll go. But it better not take long."

"Of course not, honey." Martha said, smiling.

Jonathan, Martha, and Clark Kent strolled over to the cream house next door, Martha carrying a beautified basket of goodies. They reached the door and rang the bell. They heard soft movements, and the door opened to reveal a tall, slim, raven-haired woman.

"Yes?"

Martha started, "Hi. We're the Kents and we live next door. We just wanted to welcome you to your new home. I'm Martha, this is my husband Jonathan, and this is our son Clark. We brought this for you." She smiled, holding out the basket.

The woman looked briefly surprised, but soon her features were blank once again. She took the basket, "Thank you. That is very kind." She stepped, making a sweeping gesture with her arm, "Won't you come in?"


End file.
